Chapter_154

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But, as I hurl the whizzing casting-spear,

My shaft beside the mark I may not speed.

To Song-queens splendour-throned with joy draws near

Their champion, and to Oligaithus’ seed.

How oft at Nemea these have shone victorious

And at the Isthmus, all will I comprise

In few words: of the record passing-glorious

My tale a truthful witness ratifies⁠—

Ay, under oath⁠—that noble herald’s tongue

Which published threescore victories in the names

Of this House⁠—welcome-sweet his accents rung!⁠—

When Nemea and the Isthmus held their games.